The Letter
by werechick
Summary: (FEMSLASH: Cho/Ginny) ::Complete:: Cho's job takes her all over the continent for days, even weeks at time. It's wonderful to be together, but horrible to be apart.


__

Dearest Virginia,

It's been a while, hasn't it? I know you're mad at me, and I understand why. You have every right to be mad at me. I'm an idiot. But I'm an idiot who loves you.

Sometimes, I feel like I shouldn't go on like this, breaking your heart like this. Every time, I come back to you, and we stitch the pieces together again. Then I leave, and break your heart all over again.

That's why I left, darling. I can't keep doing this. It hurts you so badly, and I could never hurt you. I promised you never to hurt you. Remember the promise I made to you? "To love honor, and cherish," this was my pledge to you. I love you, Ginny, dear. I cherish you above everything. So I can't keep hurting you.

I know you're going to hate me, and I know that feeling will last a long time, maybe forever. No matter how much you hate me, remember I love you.

Don't cry, Ginny. Please, don't cry. I can't stand to see you cry. That's the reason I'm telling you this in a letter, instead of telling you myself. Dry your eyes. You're always prettier smiling.

Find someone who makes you happy. Find someone who'll deserve you. Please, just forget me; forget I even existed. Whatever you do, be happy.

Love,

Cho

Ginny read the letter silently. She loved Cho, even with the little spats they had. There was always something, however little it was, that kept them from being truly happy. They both tried so hard, but in the end, it all fell apart. She crumpled the parchment and lay awake in the bed, sobbing loudly.

Cho was always away from home. After Hogwarts, she had become a Quidditch player, signing up with the Hollyhead Harpies. The twins had been the first to point out the innuendo in the fact she had joined an all-female Quidditch team.

Each Quidditch match was both wonderful and horrible. It was wonderful in that the Harpies would always prevail, horrible in that it kept the two apart. What time Ginny and Cho spent together was wonderful, always, and completely perfect.

They would laugh, and joke back and forth. Entire evenings could be spent in front of a fire in what seemed like only minutes. Wine would flow endlessly, and Ginny's eyes would sparkle, as if her soul had been poured from the bottle along side of it.

Neither of their minds were clouded by the alcohol, instead they were drunk on liquid happiness, the very essence of just being together.

The red wine would give way to red satin, and they would slowly make love, with the practiced skill of experience, but also the discovery and wonder of innocence. Their breaths would become heavier and their words would become more muffled, as the two people became one, moving fluidly and perfectly together.

But in the morning, Cho would leave. She would be gone for days, weeks at a time, playing in matches all over the world, in many strange lands. Her love would be left behind, like a doll when the child is away.

It was in this time that Ginny truly began to paint. She moved the brush across the canvas as if it were an extension of her body, and in a sense, it was. It expressed everything she couldn't express in words: the doubt, and the loneliness, especially.

In a few days, or a few weeks, Cho would be back. Life would start over again, and all the flowers that had died would bloom again. Cho was the sun, and Ginny was the Earth. Everything revolved around Cho, and everything depended on Ginny.

It hurt Cho so much, to make Ginny cry like that. She offered to quit, to take a job closer to home, and be with her all the time. Ginny wouldn't even hear of it. She could never be the one to limit Cho's dreams. So the cycle would continue, starting with love, passion and sex, and then the loneliness and despair would set in, only to be chased away by Cho's return.

Cho was right; they couldn't keep on going this way. It was so wrong for them, so painful and so merciless. It was also wrong for them to break apart, they were intended for each other, and only each other. What was one to do?

Ginny lifted her head from the pillow. She needed to do something, to do anything. This just wasn't the way things should end. She loved Cho too much to let this go so easily.

__

Darling,

You're right; we can't go on like this. Being apart is so painful for both of us; I know it. I see it in your eyes. Every time you left for a match, I could see the tears dripping down your cheek. You didn't think I saw them, did you?

Now it's my turn, I suppose, to turn around and look the other way, so you don't see me crying. I think I'm going to cry forever, until my eyes are too sore, and blood drips down my cheeks instead.

You're not saving me by playing noble, Cho. I love you, and you love me. Isn't that all that matters?

Please, Cho, come back, we can make it work. I promise you on my father's grave, we can make it. I love you, and no matter what will happen in the days to come, I always will. It's just not right to end things like this. I love you too much.

I love you, and I'll always love you. Nothing will ever change that.

Gin

Ginny died that day. Not a physical death, not the kind that requires a burial, and a service. No, this was an emotional and spiritual death. The kind of death even the dead fear.

Yes, Ginny lived on. It was, however, a hollow existence. She just went through the motions, without respect to their meaning. Indeed, life itself had lost all meaning. Life was just another cycle, of simple and basic needs. Food, water, shelter, clothing... this was what she claimed to need. What she really needed was so much more basic than even these. She needed Cho.

Half a world away, Cho too was feeling the loss. She spent much of her time in art museums, many of which unwittingly displayed Cho's entire life, merely converted into oil. She could stare for hours at the paintings, and still find something she had missed before.

One painting in particular caught her eye. An abstract painting, it made use of color in a classic battle. But this battle was more complex than any the muggles or wizards have ever seen. Clearly, it symbolized the battle between one's mind and heart.

Glancing down at the painting, Cho realized something. Ginny had painted this; it was obvious to her. The swishy blue signature was in the corner clearly read her name.

Nervously, Cho approached the gallery owner. "How did you get this?"

"I know Vincent personally."

"Vincent?" she started, and then began to laugh at herself. She glanced back at the signature. It was a Vincent Wessel work. She felt foolish.

"Never mind," she mumbled under her breath.

She still had Ginny on her mind. Just when she thought she was over her, the flame haired one triumphed again. She realized it then, that whatever she did, wherever she did it, she'd do it with Ginny on her mind. Every restaurant she went to, the waitress would look like Ginny. Every cup of coffee would look like Ginny's eyes staring blindly back at her. Nothing she did could ever separate her from Ginny, not even the ocean in between them.

She still had the parchment letter, crumpled up in her pocket. She picked it up, straightening it out on the counter in front of her. Ginny still loved her. She still loved Ginny. She pondered to herself how she could ever do something as stupid as leaving.

Then she remembered her job, and the problems it had brought. She had quit the job months ago, in order to take this trip across the sea. The torment she was going through was self-inflicted.

She smiled as she tossed the letter into the can. Stepping outside, she hailed the knight bus, heading towards home.


End file.
